


Payback

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Evil!Seth, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Past Seth/Bo, Past Seth/Dean, Porn with too much plot, Touch-Starved, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wrestle AU: Ice King's Kid, this got so long, wrestlers without the wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: Welcome aboard, Thirsty Crew! So I haven't been able to get this pairing out of my head. Here's a little AU (very) vaguely influenced by a song that I heard once on the radio. This is entirely self-indulgent as ever, but I would like to dedicate it to hardcorewwetrash on Tumblr for making me aware that this ship existed. Some gratuitous hurt/comfort for your time.[x-posted to Tumblr]Enjoy!





	Payback

**Author's Note:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This contains multiple allusions to previous abuse (mental and physical), as well as semi-romanticized alcoholism, unhealthy coping mechanisms and a brief scene that could be considered as taking advantage of someone under the influence. Stay safe!]

“Can I buy you another?”

 

Bo sighed heavily, not even bothering to look up from his glass. “Man, if you’ve come over here looking for some fun, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m a ball of misery tonight.” He said bluntly.

 

“I figured! That’s why I came over, man.” The guy laughed. “You know what they say about misery and company.” A body settled onto the barstool beside Bo. “Hey Reigns! Whatever my friend got, can you whip up two more?”

 

“You got it, Ambrose.” The large, well-built man behind the counter was almost _suspiciously_ calm, but Bo had yet to notice a crack in his performance. And he had been _watching_.

 

“My name’s Dean Ambrose.” The man next to him said. A hand moved into Bo’s field of vision and he grudgingly shook it after a minute. “What’s your misery?”

 

“Ha!” The laugh was louder than Bo intended and he thumped his forehead on the counter. “I’m an idiot.”

 

“Well, that makes two of us. Thanks Reigns.” Dean slid the extra drink to bump Bo’s fingers. “Jesus Christ, and here _I_ thought you were drinkin’ a Shirley Temple!” He sputtered, presumably after sipping his drink.

 

Bo snickered, lifting his head to acknowledge the guy. “I’m the bes' at misery, man. Nobody can out-misery me.” He said, a little unsure of why he was so proud about that.

 

Dean was tall and slender, long legs comfortably resting on the lower bar railing. He had sandy blond hair that was on the shaggier side, and the fine beginnings of a red-tinted five o’ clock shadow. His clothes were a little rumpled, and his lower lip had a bruise that seemed fresh.

 

Bo was intrigued. “What’s your story? Look like you been inna' tussle.” He asked curiously.

 

Dean proceeded to down half his drink with one practiced swallow. Bo grimaced. “I asked you first, man.” Dean grunted. “Can’t skip your turn, s’cheating.”

 

Bo made a face. “ _T_ _hat_ word.” His forehead landed back on the bar, long hair a tangled mess.

 

“No _shit_ , relationship troubles for you too?” Dean asked, sounding incredulous. “It’s just been a hard night, I guess.”

 

“I don’t have any _proof_ or anythin’. He said he wasn’t happy with me.” Bo mumbled into the wood pressed against his face. “I couldn’t make him happy. Should have known that I can’t buy love. Haven’t been able to make him happy for a while, I’m always working and stuff-”

 

“ _He?_ ”

 

“Yeah.” Bo sighed, uncaring of what this stranger must think. “He was my world, y’know? I tried so hard, but God, it just wasn’t enough.”

 

“Man, we _are_ in the same boat. Tried to ask my boy what was wrong and he fuckin’ started carrying on, then he hauled off and belted me in the mouth. I wasn’t gonna’ hit him back, he’s not... _like me_ y’know? Besides, I knew from the get-go that he wasn’t _all_ mine.” Bo saw Dean’s fingers start to tap the underside of the bar in a nervous gesture. “So I left.”

 

“Where will you go?”

 

“I haven’t really decided yet.” Dean hummed after a moment, shaking himself bodily. “What about you?”

 

“I have my own place, but I don’t wanna’ think about being there alone.” Bo knocked his forehead into the bar a little harder, making his vision slide hazily to the side for a second. “Not yet.”

 

“I’ll drink to that.”

 

Bo heard an almost comically loud swallow. “Has he ever hit y' before?” Where the hell did _that_ question come from? Bo knew that at some point (probably tomorrow afternoon, once he’d come around) he would be shocked at himself for being so nosy.

 

“Yeah.” Dean answered without hesitation and it made Bo feel queasy for a second. “One of the reasons why I haven’t decided where the hell I’m goin’. He’s got a lot of guys who _were_ my friends in his pocket now, spun ‘em a few stories about me. Not sure who I can trust as far as staying somewhere without getting my ass kicked.”

 

“Well, tha' guy seems nice.” Bo gestured with his half-full glass at the large bartender.

 

Dean chuckled. “Ro’s a great guy, he’ll give you the shirt off his back. But I ain’t imposin’ on him. I’ve put him through enough shit.”

 

Reigns reached over the bar to roughly muss Dean’s hair. “Don’t you forget it.” He snorted.

 

“I won’t, I won’t!” Dean promised, laughing outright when Reigns hauled him close enough to give him a noogie. “I surrender, easy on the goods Ro!”

 

“Could come home with me, f’ you want.” Bo offered. Dean seemed to be choking on his drink all of a sudden. “I mean, I got a big place. S’just me there. Uh, guest bedroom and stuff.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Jus’ come back w’ me.” The whole thing felt more like an inconvenience, instead of the raw heartbreak he had suffered from hours earlier. Bo preferred this, honestly.

 

Dean finally managed to squeak out a, “You don’t even _know_ me, man.”

 

“I know y’ name. Apparently that’s all I knew abou’ my ex, and he was _livin’_ with me so…” Bo trailed off, draining his glass and settling it down on the counter as carefully as he could manage in his inebriated state. “Y’ got no place to go, I got a place you can go. It’s comfy and clean. F’ you don’t, it’s jus’ gonna’ go to waste anyways.” Bo reasoned.

 

“…what’s your name?”

 

“Bo.”

 

And that was how Bo Dallas ended up in an Uber with a complete stranger (aside from the driver, of course), heading back to his sprawling, luxuriant apartment on the other side of the city. Bo appreciated Dean’s silence, resting his forehead against the cool window and blinking slowly at the neon lights trailing by. That bar had only been his second one, but thank _God_ Roman mixed his drinks strong.

 

Dean tugged on his arm after a few minutes, grinning wide enough that even Bo’s alcohol-drenched brain was suspicious. “Hey, can I take a picture of the two of us real quick? I wanna’…wanna’ send it to him. So he thinks I’m goin’ home with someone new tonight.”

 

_Him?_ Bo cast around wildly for a split-second, before remembering that Dean was newly single. “ _Oh_ , oh yeah. Sure, man.” He chuckled, propping his chin up on Dean’s shoulder. “S’ petty though.”

 

“I don’t give a shit.” Dean retorted, one arm extended out in front of them with his phone at the ready. Bo squinted and gave it a sleepy grin before he was thoroughly blinded by the flash. He spent the rest of the ride following the flash echoes around with his eyes while Dean crowed about how “ _He left it on read! What a wuss!_ ”

 

The sight of a familiar car outside his apartment caught his attention upon pulling up to the curb, and Bo stared at it for a long second once he’d paid the driver. He _knew_ it, but his eyes were still having trouble putting things together in a coherent fashion. Bo didn’t understand why he felt slightly nauseous. Dean, on the other hand, stormed across the street the second he was clear of the door of their vehicle. He narrowly missed getting run over, gesturing angrily at the truck that honked at him.

 

“ _Rollins!_ ”

 

Bo’s brain snapped back into focus at the familiar name. _Seth_. That was Seth’s car. Which meant that Seth was here. Was he here to apologize? To explain? _Why does Dean know Seth’s name?_ With a sinking feeling in his gut, Bo carefully crossed the street.

 

“ _Bo_ is who you’re here for?!” Dean was hammering the side of his fist on the window of Seth’s car, not hard enough to break it but enough that the vehicle rocked slightly. “ _This_ is your main guy? Your guy that was ‘okay’ with you having an open relationship?” Dean all but shouted, “This guy? The guy that’s been drinking himself into a stupor all night because you broke it off with him and he ‘knew he wasn’t making you happy’? _This guy, Rollins?!_ ”

 

Dean seemed furious. At this point all Bo felt was exhausted, so he put a hand on Dean’s arm and shifted his body over. “Seth, roll down the window for me?”

 

Seth shook his head wildly, his fingers gripping the steering wheel. “Hell no, babe! He’ll rip me apart!” Seth replied, the old term of endearment making Bo’s chest ache. “I just-”

 

“You’re sure as hell not layin’ a hand on this guy like you did to me, _asshole_.” Dean snarled. “I can’t even believe you. No wonder you left my message on read, you _shit_ -”

 

“Bo you _cannot_ trust him.” Seth warned. “I know I hurt you by leaving, I _know_ I did. I don’t even hold this against you, I cheated on you so it’s only fair. But-”

 

“You…what?” Bo asked dumbly, pieces having a hard time falling into place in his dizzy mind. “You seriously cheated on me?”

 

Dean moved from foot to foot uncomfortably, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “He told me he was in an open relationship, ‘kind of a cuck situation’ was how he put it.” He mumbled. “Like, he needed someone to fuck him because he uh. Wasn’t. Getting fucked. Said eventually his boyfriend would want to watch.”

 

“But Seth, you said…you said you didn’t-” Bo shook his head, unable to finish his sentence. “I don’t understand.”

 

“I had needs. Someone like _you_ couldn’t fill them, and Dean couldn’t support me financially.” Seth was apparently feeling bold, unlocking the door and stepping out of his car. “You were fun in your own way Bo, but I don’t really require you anymore. I need my things.” He said primly.

 

“You _lowlife_.”

 

“Oh that’s _great_ coming from you, Ambrose. The guy who never asked to _meet_ my boyfriend. You were more than happy to fuck me senseless with zero remorse, so don’t even start with me.” Seth snapped.

 

_Fuck me senseless fuck me senseless_. Bo’s mind went white-hot, all _those_ times coming to the forefront. _Fuck me senseless I cheated on you it’s only fair_. Most days when Bo came home from work he just wanted to sit down, maybe eat something. Seth was stronger than him. Urge him onto his knees, get him out of his tie, fuck his mouth until he was a gasping, sloppy mess. Maybe he would come, maybe he wouldn’t, but at least Seth didn’t leave, right?

 

_Right_.

 

Dean was still talking, “Dammit Rollins, I ain’t that much of an asshole that I’d willingly participate in someone gettin' cheated on. What the _fuck_.” He hissed, “You kicked me out of my own damn apartment and now you’re here, plannin’ on gathering up your things… _wait_.” Dean slammed his palm down on the roof of the car, blocking Seth’s escape route with his arm. “You’re…you’d _better_ not be thinkin’ that you’re moving in with me.”

 

“I assumed that I would be able to talk with you about it once you’d cooled off.” Seth huffed.

 

“Once _I_ cooled off? You got some _fuckin’_ nerve.” Dean growled. “I don’t even believe this. No, _hell_ no. Absolutely not. Matter of fact, hand over my key.” He demanded. “I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

 

“Psh, not like it matters.” Seth blustered, working the apartment key off his keyring and dropping it into Dean’s palm.

 

Dean remained where he was, quirking his index finger at Seth. “ _Both_ of ‘em.” He said sternly after a moment of Rollins staring at him. “You ain’t goin’ up there, and you ain’t coming home with me.”

 

“What the _fuck_. Bo! Tell him to knock it off!” Seth whined.

 

Bo had fallen into a bit of a stupor and he started at the sound of his name, taking a step forward. Dean put a hand in the middle of his chest, keeping him at arm’s length. “Easy, I don’t want him to swing at you.”

 

“I wouldn’t hit _Bo_ , he’s too soft.” Seth scoffed. “You, on the other hand…”

 

“I didn’t _appreciate_ the asswhuppin’, if that’s what you’re getting at. Now hand over your other key. The one that goes to Bo’s apartment.”

 

“There’s two different keys.” Bo mumbled, “A fob and a key for the door if the fob doesn’t work.” _God_ , he was exhausted. His head hurt. His stomach hurt. He just wanted to lie down. “Give them here.” He continued, holding out his own hand.

 

“Babe, you can’t-”

 

“It’s my apartment.” Bo interrupted him dully. “I can. _Give_. _Them_. _Here_.” It was a demand this time, uttered sharply.

 

“But my stuff-”

 

“-isn’t going anywhere tonight.” Dean finished Seth’s sentence, his face pulled into a stern expression. “Give him his keys and beat it.”

 

“Why the hell do _you_ care so much?” Seth spat at Ambrose, unsnapping a separate carabiner from his waist with the key and fob attached. “Here, since you want it so damn bad.” Rollins dangled the keychain in Bo’s face and then threw it into the street. “Fetch.” He cackled.

 

Bo’s sigh felt like it came from the center of the earth. The younger man straightened up after a moment, trotting slowly out onto the pavement to scoop up his keys.

 

“ _Fuck_ you Ambrose!” Bo turned just in time to see Rollins swing for Dean’s face, the light-haired man not raising his arm quick enough to catch the blow before it connected. “You _motherfucker_ , ruining fucking _everything!_ ”

 

“Pretty sure you did that all by your damn self.” Dean grunted. “You greedy _prick_. Wantin’ everything both ways, stringin' this guy along!”

 

“Touch Dean again and I'm calling the building management to inform them that you're no longer welcome on the premises.” Bo could feel himself sobering up, much to his muted regret. “Is that clear enough for you, Seth?” He asked flatly. “We'll discuss a time for you to pick up your things in the morning. Right now, I have a headache and I'd rather not deal with you. So leave.”

 

Seth's open-mouth shocked reaction was more satisfying than it had any right to be, but Bo supposed he had never really given Rollins any sort of boundaries before. He had been so worried about ruining his first _real_ relationship that he hadn't put together it was a sham from the start. He gave Seth anything and everything that he could.

 

_And he took it all_.

 

Bo reached blindly down to hold Ambrose’s hand, not really sure why. Dean allowed him to though, so that was…something. “Let’s go inside.” Bo whispered, pointedly avoiding looking at Seth.

 

“Of course.” Ambrose nodded, following Bo into his apartment complex.

 

Once they were through the revolving door, Bo expected Dean to drop his hand. But Ambrose did the exact opposite, wrapping an arm around Bo’s shoulders and pulling him into his side while they waited for the elevator.

 

Bo managed to keep the tears at bay until the elevator doors slid shut. This wasn’t _fair_ , he should be just as upset with Dean as he was with Seth! After all, Dean had been the one facilitating him. Ambrose was the one railing his boyfriend, even though Seth had claimed that he ‘didn’t bottom for anyone’. But Dean hadn’t known, he’d been nearly as in the dark as Bo. He’d thought he was part of an open relationship.

 

For one terrible, _mean_ split second, Bo wished that Dean had roughed Seth up. Wished that Ambrose had hit back.

 

“Hey, dry off. He ain’t worth it. That’s the alcohol ringin’ those tears out of you and you know it.” Dean interrupted his thinking, a battered sleeve scrubbing at Bo’s cheek. “I know it hurts, but you’re better for leavin’ him down there.”

 

“I d-dunno’ why it hurts.” Bo hiccupped. “He n-never said he l-l-loved me or anyth-thing. Used me. M’ j-just so _sad_ , Dean.” He said, knowing as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he sounded pitiful and childish.

 

“God, you yank the heart out of an asshole like me. I’m so sorry.” Dean apologized. “I should have known better, I…God, I’m a fuckin’ idiot. Was he, uh. Your first?” When Bo nodded Dean swore again, louder this time. “Did he know that?”

 

“Yeah. I…I was nervous. I shouldn’t have told him.” Bo wiped his cheeks, sniffling. “Should have just kept my mouth shut.”

 

“This _isn’t_ your fault.” Dean said gruffly. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s his fault for takin’ advantage of you, and it’s my fault for just blindly accepting whatever bullshit he fed me. I ought to know the look and sound of a too good to be true deal at this point.” Dean slouched against the elevator wall. “This ain’t exactly my first trio rodeo. Shoulda’ been suspicious when his boyfriend wasn’t askin’ to meet me.”

 

“Is that really a thing?” Bo asked, floundering when Dean nodded. “I…but why?”

 

“Listen, I dunno’ if I should be the one explainin’ shit to you.” Dean cleared his throat as the elevator doors opened. “Uh…”

 

Bo paid him no mind, blissfully unaware of how clean and well-lit the hallway was. He had half of the whole floor to himself, hallway appreciation wasn’t exactly at the forefront of his mind. “I’m gonna’ have to call the building security in the morning, get a new lock in case he copied the key.” Bo said aloud while he unlocked his door. “I don’t want to pack his s-!” He tripped over a box in the dark, stumbling and almost losing his balance. The swimming sensation in his head wasn’t doing his legs much good.

 

Dean flipped on the light by the door to reveal that there were half-packed boxes _everywhere_ in Bo’s normally-organized living room. “Nice place.” Dean sauntered around one of the boxes, giving it a heartfelt kick in the side. Bo was frozen in place, unsure of where to look first. Dean tsked after a minute of silence, taking Bo by the arm. “Hey, how about you show me the kitchen? You _do_ have a kitchen, right?”

 

“Y-Yeah. It’s…it’s over here.” Bo answered numbly, moving on muscle memory to the kitchen doorway. At least there were no boxes in the smaller room, but he was suddenly struck by how _sterile_ the whole space was. Stark, black appliances and stainless steel everywhere, not a measuring spoon out of place. His kitchen looked like a showroom. Bo winced self-consciously. He had always preferred things tidy of course, he’d just had no idea how _severe_ it looked.

 

“You like to cook?” Dean sounded surprised.

 

“I bake. And sometimes I make pizza.” Some of the tension eased out of Bo’s shoulders. “Not frozen pizza, pizza from scratch.”

 

“No shit? All I have in my apartment is a toaster oven. It serves so many purposes, man, you wouldn’t even believe it.” Dean propped his hip up on the counter, eyeing the bowl of fruit Bo always kept on the island with a healthy amount of suspicion.

 

“It’s real fruit, I promise.” Bo said, a nervous giggle bubbling in his throat when Dean narrowed his eyes.

 

“You sure?”

 

“Positive, picked everything up two days ago.”

 

Dean snatched an apple and tore a bite out of it, chewing quickly. “The grapes real too?” He asked around a mouthful of apple, grinning cheekily.

 

“Of course they are.” Bo replied indignantly, going to his fridge for a beer. “You want anything?”

 

“Nah, I think that paint thinner you tricked me into at the bar was more than enough for tonight.” Dean laughed. “Can’t be gettin’ sloppy in some stranger’s apartment, after all.”

 

“Oh, your mouth!” Bo remembered suddenly, “Do you want some ice?”

 

“I wouldn’t say no to ice.” Dean allowed, moving to the side so Bo could open the drawer where he stored his Ziplock bags. Bo proceeded to clumsily roll the bag so it stayed upright, then squinted at the buttons on his refrigerator for a long second. “You all set there?” Dean asked.

 

“I only got the dumb thing last week, I always forget which…huh, I should just tell Dad he needs to re-label these stupid buttons.” Bo muttered, mostly to himself.

 

Dean ambled over to stand beside him, grunting in what seemed to be confusion. “The fuck is all this bullshit? _Ice_. Kuh- _yewb_.” He over-enunciated the words at the small button panel, shrugging when nothing happened. “Worth a shot for the HAL fridge.”

 

Bo snickered, finally pressing a button at random and squeaking in surprise when ice cubes actually dispensed properly. “Success!” He cheered, zipping the bag then handing it to Ambrose. “Here, follow me. Before I get myself blackout I’m gonna’ show you where you can sleep.”

 

“What a gentleman.” Dean snorted, holding the makeshift ice pack against his jaw.

 

“I try.”

 

…

 

Bo sprawled out on his couch, watching something on the massive television without actually seeing it. His third beer was half-finished, the young man picking absently at the label. Bo knew he was overly-emotional to a fault, and he knew that drinking wasn’t going to make anything better. But it made him feel a little less hurt, which was enough for him right now. He wistfully recalled the numb relief he’d enjoyed at the bar, wishing that the crisp night air and the shock of seeing Seth again hadn’t sobered him so thoroughly.

 

It was strange, the way he had never suspected that side of Seth even existed. Doubt swirled in Bo’s mind. Was Seth right? Would he _not_ have been able to satisfy him in that manner? It was no excuse for using him financially, _bodily_ , either way. The reasoning behind Seth’s actions was hardly the issue.

 

Bo tore the rest of the label off the bottle in one quick motion, crumpling the slightly-sticky paper in his hand. Dean shuffled out of the bathroom and Bo could _feel_ the other man looking at him. “Is he right?” Bo asked, not really expecting a reply.

 

Dean walked over to the couch and pried the bottle out of his hand. “Go get some sleep.” Dean said quietly instead of answering the question.

 

Bo lurched to his feet, everything hitting him at once as he stood. But this was hardly his first time getting a little wasted and he doubted it would be his last, maneuvering around his coffee table with less than sure steps. Admittedly, this _was_ more drunk than he’d been in a while and he sort of hoped when he woke up tomorrow this would all be a bad dream.

 

He tumbled into his bed, burying his face in the sheets and splaying his palms on the blankets while his world spun from the rapid motion. Bo knew he needed to get undressed, shuffling up onto his hands and knees to grapple one-handed with the buttons on his dress shirt.

 

“Hang on, you’re gonna’ knock yourself out on the wall.” Dean (or was it Seth?) took Bo by the belt and shifted his weight back.

 

Bo didn’t really register what Dean had said, his focus split between the tiny buttons and keeping his balance. He swatted absently at the extra hand that found its way into the mix to hold his shirt taut. Rollins was always so handsy while Bo was just trying to get undressed after work, but Bo soon found himself leaning into the help. He pressed a kiss to the hand that gripped at the hem of his shirt, smiling almost stupidly when Seth ( _Dean?_ ) hummed in reply.

 

Callused fingers stroked his chest and sides beneath his shirt once it was unbuttoned, the touch oddly unhurried for Seth and soothing until one of his nipples was grazed. Bo hiccupped in a breath, some part of him certain that whatever had come out of his mouth was probably _not_ an appropriate response. Seth had never touched him there. Hell, Bo had never really touched _himself_ there!

 

A chuckle that was more gravelly than nasally met his ears. “ _That’s_ the spot, huh?” The rough pad of an index finger rubbed the same nipple and _fuck_ -

 

Bo gripped the blanket harder, his knuckles whitening. “Seth, I-” He was unbuttoning his pants before he realized it, hand shaking and clumsy with the button and zip. When he was prompt it made Seth happy. Seth was impatient. Seth ripped things more often than not. “ _God_ , there, m’ undone, p- _please_ …”

 

That chuckle thrummed through his body again, and the hand slid into his boxers to fondle him with more care than he was used to. “You’re real cute when you’ve got a case of whiskey dick, Bo.” A thumb smoothed over the head of his cock, smearing the abundant precome that beaded there. “Not even fully hard but you’re leakin’ all over my hand and rockin’ your hips. Poor thing.”

 

“Oh please don’t tease me, don’t tease me.” Bo begged pitifully. “Please Seth, _please_ -” Seth always did this to him, he _always_ took advantage of the fact that Bo was easy to get a rise out of but hard to get off. _Especially_ when he was drunk. “ _It’s not_ _ **my**_ _fault you can’t come_ ,” Seth had said more than once, usually followed with a satisfied swat to Bo’s ass while the other man whimpered into the bedspread. Because of course it wasn’t his fault. Nothing ever was.

 

That hand closed down into a loose fist, trapping Bo’s half-erect cock in a slick little channel. “Shh, you’re alright. I’m not gonna’ leave you hanging.” The raspy voice murmured, stubble brushing his cheek. “I’ve got you.”

 

Bo couldn’t understand why Seth was suddenly being attentive. Time shifted hazily in his mind, reality too blurry to grasp. Was Seth apologizing? Had Bo dreamed that they broke up? Why did Seth’s voice sound so rough?

 

“Lay down, your arms are shaking.”

 

_Dean_. Bo slumped forwards, burying his face in his pillow. He knew he should probably be a bit more worried about letting this complete stranger put his hands all over him, but right now he _hurt_ and Dean was promising him something that would ease that. “Dean, I…” Bo trailed off, unsure of what he was even planning on saying.

 

Above him, Dean laughed. “Back with me, huh? You called me Seth a minute ago. No worries, I ain’t the jealous type. And I ain’t gonna’ fuck you. Relax.” Dean’s fingers carded through Bo’s hair and down between his shoulders, making the younger man shudder and arch his back. “Shh, Christ you’re wound. Look, I ain’t plannin’ on kissing you _or_ fuckin’ you. Just gonna’ take care of your problem.” Dean promised, petting the back of Bo’s head.

 

Bo felt as though he had been starving this whole time and Dean was suddenly offering him a banquet. He couldn’t help the noise he made, thrusting into Dean’s hand and trying to stifle his whimpers with the pillow. _It was enough that Seth didn’t leave. It was enough_. He had always told himself that, sore and exhausted but hopeful, so damn hopeful. Hopeful that maybe, just _maybe_ , if he was kind, if he loved him, Seth would change of his own accord.

 

“I’ve got you, take what you need.” Dean murmured in his ear and Bo sobbed out a breath, overwhelmed at the simple gesture of someone giving him _anything_ with no strings attached. “Take what you need.”

 

_Take what you need._

 

…

 

Bo wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the man in his apartment last night, dreamed him up in a fit of loneliness. He couldn’t exactly ask _Seth_ what had happened, that much he did know. _It doesn’t really matter_ , he told himself as he groggily prepared his coffee.

 

There wasn’t so much as an unfamiliar wrapper in the wastebasket in his kitchen. Nothing in the bathroom or guest bedroom was out of place. Bo sighed, settling down at the kitchen island with his tablet to skim the news. _How drunk_ _ **was**_ _I?_ He rubbed his aching eyes and sipped his coffee and just tried to ease back into existing this morning.

 

Seth’s spare key sat in the middle of the island and Bo was doing his best to ignore it without thinking about the fact that he was ignoring it. At some point last night he had apparently shoved all the boxes in the living room off to the side and covered them with a throw blanket. His memory felt like Swiss cheese; Bo couldn’t recall when Dean had come into the equation. Was he at the bar? Fighting with Seth outside his apartment? There was the flash of a camera, the imprint of it muddling his already-impaired vision. Mostly he remembered _blue_ eyes and the rub of stubble on his cheek. _Is Dean even real?_

 

His phone chirped with a message from his father. - _How’s the fridge?_

 

- _Buttons fr ice/water unclear u gotta make diff pictures fr them other than that it’s the best one yet_

 

- _Already on it. Rough night? You never took the car to get detailed yesterday. Gulak asked whether something had happened_.

 

Bo groaned, putting his head into his hands. He _knew_ he’d forgotten something.

 

- _Sorry dad I’ll do it right now_

 

- _Take time to wake up, plenty of daylight for you to burn_.

 

Bo could almost _see_ his father’s raised eyebrow. Irwin didn’t exactly _approve_ of when Bo drowned himself in alcohol and he tended to make that fact abundantly clear. Bo hardly blamed him, he himself wasn’t a massive fan of the hangover-riddled mornings he had endured in the past.

 

- _Seth and I fought_

 

- _Are you alright?_

 

Just like that, no judgement, no _what did you do?_ Bo loved his father.

 

- _I’m ok. Just feel gross inside. He was using me for financial stability_

 

It hurt to type that.

 

- _You want breakfast?_

 

- _Nah I’m a responsible adult, bought fruit earlier in the week. Fruit bfast_

 

- _Let me know if you need anything_.

 

- _Always. Thanks dad_

 

Bo put his phone down again, reaching for an apple from the fruit bowl. _“The grapes real too?” White teeth flashed in a grin then ripped another chunk out of a juicy red apple_ -

 

Bo almost dropped the apple, thinking back in confusion. The voice _wasn’t_ Seth’s. Had he imagined a whole different _voice_ for this…Dean guy? Bo couldn’t decide whether he’d had (essentially) a total stranger in his living space the whole night, or whether he needed to come to grips with the fact that he may be _insane_ and having elaborate wet dreams. Bo plopped his head back into his hands and groaned loudly, the apple forgotten on the counter.

 

He wasn’t sore in any _suspicious_ areas, didn’t have any marks on him. “ _Take what you need_.” _The words brushed against his ear and he shivered_ -

 

Bo flushed hotly, the strange urge to fan himself coming over him. He _would_ imagine someone like that, someone who wanted to take care of him. He shook his head, thoroughly disgusted.

 

Food first. Then the car wash. Then…he would see where the day took him.

 

…

 

Bo tended to continue to read the news while the car was being detailed, spending the time down the street at a little internet café until he received the text alert to let him know that everything was taken care of. He didn’t know _what_ possessed him to forgo his normal protocol in favor of passing out in one of the plush chairs in the car wash waiting area. Exhaustion, possibly.

 

His phone was resting on his lap and when it vibrated with the notification Bo was startled awake. He yawned widely, shifting into an upright position to stretch his arms over his head. “You already text the guy for this one? I’m about done and I’ve got two more in the works, I have to get that car out of my bay ASAP.” The familiar voice froze Bo mid-stretch.

 

“Keep your shirt on Ambrose, he always heads to the café a block over. Give him a minute.” The car wash owner (an almost _painfully_ professional young man named Drew) scolded as he came around the corner from the wash area. “Oh! Mr. Dallas, you broke routine!” Drew said upon catching sight of Bo. “The car is all ready for you, sir. Give your father my regards.”

 

“Of course, Mr. Gulak. Thank you.” Bo replied automatically, accepting the handshake and keys absently. “Can I ask who did the work this time?”

 

“Absolutely! His name is Dean. We used to keep him on the scrubbing side, but he has such an _instinctive_ eye for craftsmanship and little details it was a crime to let his talent go to waste.” Drew gushed. “You should see him work, it’s like magic.”

 

Bo remembered the way Dean’s hands had felt on him and fought the urge to blush bright red. _Truer words haven’t been spoken_. “Thank you again, Mr. Gulak.”

 

Dean rounded the corner into the waiting area, wiping his hands off with a shop towel. “Gulak I’m gonna’ take five, grab a...” Ambrose’s words petered out as he looked up and saw Bo standing there. “Uh.”

 

“Mr. Dallas was just asking about who did the marvelous job this time around! Of course, I had to let him know it was your handiwork.” Drew said proudly. Bo wanted the floor to swallow him up.

 

“ _Mr. Dallas_ , huh?” Dean asked slowly, continuing to wipe his hands off. Bo got the distinct feeling that he was in trouble, those blue eyes focused on him. “Son of Mr. Irwin R. Schyster, the Ice King?”

 

“That’s right!” Drew seemed thrilled that Ambrose knew who he was talking to.

 

“Isn’t that somethin’.” Dean maintained eye contact with Bo, raising an eyebrow. “Royalty in your business, eh Gulak?”

 

Bo really, _really_ wanted the floor to devour him as Dean just kept staring him down. “Well, thank you for being so attentive.” Bo finally managed to say, his voice cracking when he realized how poorly he had worded that. Dean noticed as well, if the way his eyebrow vanished into his bangs was any indicator. “T-To my father’s vehicle, that is!” He hastily tacked on, making Ambrose grin.

 

“Can I show you a few trouble spots? It’ll make it easier in returning visits if you know what I’ll be workin’ on.” Dean said smoothly, beckoning for Bo to follow him.

 

Once they were out of Gulak’s earshot Bo expected Dean to pepper him with questions. But Ambrose just kept walking, long legs easily outstripping Bo’s. “Hey can you maybe slow down?” Bo asked, and Dean obligingly shortened his stride.

 

“Gave me a damn heart attack. Didn’t think I’d see you again. How do you feel?” Dean queried softly, essentially whispering out of the corner of his mouth.

 

“Well, confused for one. I thought you were the wildest dream I’d ever had.” Bo confessed, making Ambrose snort. “I couldn’t remember if you were real or not, but I guess this answers _that_ question.”

 

“I don’t know whether I should be flattered or insulted.”

 

“I was _very_ drunk.” Bo twiddled his fingers, unsure if he should even be talking about this. “Why did you do that for me? L-Last night, I mean.”

 

“You needed it, didn’t ya’?” Dean replied nonchalantly. “Seth was a taker. That’s what he did. You’d had a lot taken from you, could tell at the bar that you were on empty. Was jus’ tryin’ to give somethin’ back.”

 

“I…thank you.” Bo swallowed hard. “Seth never really did anything for me without expecting something in return. I figured that I _must_ have imagined you to ‘fill in the blanks’.” The faded bruise on Dean’s jaw caught his attention and Bo leaped at the chance to change the subject. “Is your face sore?”

 

“Eh, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Dean brushed off the concern too quickly, leaving Bo grasping for something to talk about.

 

Mercifully they arrived in the detailing bay and Dean started rattling on about a worn area in the Mercedes’ interior. Bo couldn’t have repeated anything he said if his life depended on it, thoroughly distracted by Dean’s hands smoothing over the spot on the side of the passenger seat.

 

“You’re not getting a word of what I’m sayin’, are ya’?” Dean’s tongue poked out from between his teeth when he grinned this time. Bo hadn’t noticed his dimples before.

 

“No.” Bo admitted sheepishly.

 

“You’re lookin’ at me like I hung the damn stars.” Ambrose informed him quietly. “If you don’t tone it down a little, I’ll have to put my hands on you again.”

 

Bo, to his utter horror, found himself letting out a _giggle_. Nerves had turned his normal laugh into a high squeak and he hurriedly stifled the noise. “I can think of worse things.” He choked out.

 

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “I was only kiddin’.”

 

“Oh, obviously.” Bo floundered, trying desperately to play off his blunder.

 

“You had _that_ good of a time? You really…huh.” Dean leaned back, fixing Bo with a look that was almost _appraising_. “I tell you what. I’ll give you my cell number, okay? You feel the itch, feel used up…you call me.”

 

“B-But I-”

 

“You’re real cute when you get all flustered, know that?” Dean interrupted him as he wrote his number down on the back of the usual business card that Gulak always stuck in the vanity mirror. “Seriously. If you're empty, hell, if you just had a good time and want to uh… _expand_ upon it, I’m just a text away.” Ambrose pressed the card into his hand, offered him a strange little wave, and then moved to head back towards the waiting area.

 

“W-Wait!” Bo called belatedly after staring at the card dumbfounded for several seconds, making Dean halt in his tracks. “I uh, I can’t…I can’t back the car up out of here. Usually they leave it out front for me. Would you…?”

 

“Oh yeah, duh.” Ambrose took the keys from him, making a shooing motion. “Head outside, it’ll be there in a sec.”

 

While he waited in front of the car wash (and before he could think better of it), Bo quickly added Dean’s number to his contacts.

 

…

 

Actually _calling_ the number was another story entirely. Dealing with Seth coming by daily, literally for one box at a time was a draining experience in and of itself. Bo wasn’t sure if it necessarily warranted a phone call, though. He had run on the proverbial empty for weeks before he had come across Dean.

 

Bo learned quickly that if he had a banking app already open and ready on his phone it tended to speed the daily process up; Seth was much more transparent about his monetary needs now that they had split and it was just too exhausting for Bo to listen to him hem and haw for ten minutes.

 

Seth wanted to open a gym. Well, good for him. In a fit of uncharacteristic pettiness Bo hoped that he rented out space in a building owned by the mob. He wasn’t actually sure if there was an active mob in this particular city (or if they even called it ‘the mob’ anymore) but if there _was_ one. It was unsettling to have Seth in his apartment again and Bo took to bringing the boxes down to the lobby himself before Rollins was supposed to arrive, to cut back even more on the time he had to spend in the other man’s presence.

 

The day finally came almost a week later when Bo only had one more box to remove, a large Ziplock bag of pizza perched neatly on top of the cardboard as he stepped out of the elevator. Seth was waiting in the lobby, his best hangdog expression firmly in place as he accepted the box and pizza without so much as a nod of acknowledgement.

 

“That’s everything.” Bo said. Seth grunted in reply and Bo felt something strange tugging at his insides. It took him a minute to figure out that he wasn’t sad, but _angry_. “Why, Seth?” He asked. “Why me?”

 

“Because you let me in.” Rollins shrugged, like he was bored. Like he wasn’t the one that had dragged this out for over a week, like he wasn’t the one who had sucked Bo dry. “You were nice. You didn’t say no. Hell, you let me do whatever I wanted.” His words stung and Bo wanted to _scream_ at him, vividly recalling his wish that Dean had roughed Seth up. “I guess because you were a sucker?” Seth suggested after a long silence.

 

Bo had never hit anyone in his life. His shoulders squared of their own accord and before he really knew what he was doing, before he could talk himself out of it, he slammed his palms down on the box in Seth’s arms. The box met the floor with a loud _bang!_ , leaving Seth standing there with his hands limp. Bo was officially _empty_. “You come back here every damn day to sponge off of me. Don’t think I don’t understand that’s _exactly_ what you’re doing.” His fists clenched at his sides and he took a step forward. “I want you to lose my number, lose my address, lose anything that reminds you of me.” Bo gritted his teeth. “I wish you the best in your future endeavors.”

 

He was already texting Dean as the elevator returned to his floor, fingers shaking so hard he had to rely on autocorrect for most of the message to be comprehensible. Bo immediately poured himself an overflowing glass of scotch once he was safely in his apartment, hell-bent on calming the rage that kept trying to boil his blood. He almost knocked the glass over three times while he tried to fill it, and he completely abandoned the notion of adding water to it (yes he was _absolutely_ pretentious enough to own a pipette specifically for the occasion of enjoying his whiskey).

 

Normally Bo only had scotch if certain criteria was met. If it was raining, if he had a good book to read, if he just wanted to feel a little warmer without the wine aftertaste.

 

Today, Bo wasn’t even certain if the first tumbler so much as touched his tongue. He practically chugged it, ignoring the dry heave-shudder it sent down his spine. He didn’t have a full stomach and he was vaguely aware that it was a dangerous game to slam that much scotch, but he _hurt_.

 

- _You at your apartment?_

 

- _yeah_

 

Bo’s hands refused to steady. He poured himself another glass and _did_ spill it this time, leaving a small pool on the island.

 

- _Are you safe?_

 

A hysterical giggle broke free. Why wouldn’t he be safe? It was just him, in his apartment, hands shaking, heart racing…

 

- _im alone_

 

Bo dropped his phone on the counter like it burned him, taking a _slightly_ less zealous sip from his glass. The phone vibrated again seconds later.

 

- _That’s not what I asked_.

 

Bo didn’t mean to _sob_ , barely resisting the insane urge to throw the device at a wall. Instead he carefully moved it to rest on the couch in the living room, and then started to pace. Back and forth, the spoiled fury in his chest threatening to strangle him while he tried to mediate it with wary doses of the scotch. _Empty, empty_. He had no idea how long he paced. Sometimes he accidentally sloshed the drink over the side of his glass onto the rug, and he finally left the cup on the end table so he could move unimpeded.

 

- _I’m in the elevator. Is your door unlocked?_

 

Bo didn’t answer that one either, just went and started working on the door. His hands hadn’t steadied at _all_ despite the time that had passed. He wondered absently if he was having a stroke, there was an infographic that he had seen in one of his college classes--

 

“Open up Bo, it’s me.” The familiar voice came from the other side of the door and Bo rested his forehead against the paneling for a second, debating on whether he was really going to do this. He didn’t have much chance to ponder, as Dean was twisting the doorknob before he could so much as heave one of his infamously heavy sighs. “What are you doing? Oh _no_ , give that here. Absolutely not. It’s three in the afternoon.” Ambrose said sternly, maneuvering around Bo to swipe the glass off of the end table.

 

“Dean, have you ever hit anybody?” Bo asked rapidly, breaths coming harder and harder. “I almost hit somebody today and I…I don’t feel right.” He knew it was stupid, so stupid. “M’ sorry, I shouldn’t have bugged you about this-”

 

“I’ve hit _plenty_ of people that deserved it. You haven’t hit anyone before?”

 

“I was going to.” And that was the _worst_ part, the part that had Bo’s guts twisted. The fact that he _was_ going to. He would have. He would have stooped low enough, just as low as Seth with Dean. “I really was, I was so angry, I was going to.”

 

Dean’s face hardened. “What’s he been doin’?” He asked curtly.

 

“He was here every day!” Bo exploded, trembling hands clenched into tight fists. “ _Every_ day! He only took one box at a time, a-and every day he was asking for more and I just--look, today was my last day dealing with him! I should be okay! I asked him why he picked me and--and-!” Bo brought his fists down on the back of the couch, walloping the cushions with all the strength he could muster. “I _wanted_ to _punch_ _him!_ ” He screamed, the rage managing to weasel free.

 

“Christ, I wish you’d gotten in touch with me sooner.” Ambrose said softly, seeming unfazed by the outburst.

 

“I _wanted_ to hit him, don’t you get it?!” Bo rounded on the other man, desperate to get his point across. “I _could_ do that. I could do what he did! I could be just as bad!”

 

“No, you couldn’t.” Dean wrapped him up in a tight hug that gave Bo no room to struggle, continuing to speak in that quiet tone. “If you could have, you would have. You didn’t because you’re _not_ like that.”

 

“I wanted to, I wanted to so _much_ , oh _God_.” Bo buried his face in Dean’s chest, a few errant tears managing to slip out. “I could have done it.”

 

“I know you think so. But you didn’t.” Dean started stroking his hair. “It’s over now, right? You’re safe.”

 

“I don’t know what to do.”

 

“First, let’s sit down in the kitchen.”

 

For the second time in less than two weeks, Bo found himself in his kitchen with Ambrose across from him. Dean dumped the tumbler of scotch down the drain and Bo quickly wiped up the spill he had left on the counter, grimacing at his past behavior.

 

Dean hopped up onto one of the stools at the island, patting the countertop after a moment. “Have a seat.”

 

“I just…I have to eat something.” Bo explained, taking another pizza-filled Ziplock bag out of his most recent fridge. “Before the scotch gets ahead of me.” Dean inclined his head in reply, waiting patiently while Bo devoured an impromptu late lunch.

 

“He came here every day, huh?” Ambrose muttered, quiet enough that Bo wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it.

 

“He wants to open a gym.” Bo offered, making Dean grunt.

 

“'Course he does. That’s why he hooked up with you in the first place, right? _Finances_.” Dean drummed his fingers on the table. “He was your first. Ain’t like you would know any better.”

 

“I’m not that stupid normally.”

 

“Affection and empathy are two things you don’t seem to be low on, Dallas. Seth took advantage of that.” Dean gestured vaguely around the kitchen. “You can count your blessings. He trashed my place after he threw me out that night.”

 

“ _What?_ Why?” Bo sputtered.

 

“Because underneath that evil-for-a-living veneer, Rollins is a scared little kid.” Ambrose shrugged. “Everything was going to pieces for him, so he lost his temper. Granted, my apartment is pretty barebones. Only thing that got busted past fixin’ was two lamps.”

 

“I’ll get you new ones.” Bo offered immediately.

 

Dean waved him off. “They’re _lamps_ , Dallas. Dime a dozen. I should thank him, honestly. They were from my mom and they were ugly as _sin_.”

 

“But he hasn’t been back since then?”

 

“...Yeah, nothin’ since. Guess he’s been spending his time pesterin’ you instead.” Dean’s chuckle sounded forced and Bo wondered if he imagined Ambrose’s hesitation in response to his question. “Listen, this visit ain’t about me. I told you to get in touch if you were empty. So what is it that you need? Fuck buddy? Talk buddy? Little of both?”

 

“I feel stupid for bothering you.” Bo replied sheepishly, getting a little flushed from Ambrose’s blunt terminology. “I don’t think I’ve ever been _that_ upset. I didn’t know what to do.”

 

Ambrose got up and ambled around the island, his chin tilted slightly downwards. “Never, huh?” Blue eyes searched Bo’s for a minute; he seemed almost _skeptical_. Bo shook his head. “Hmm.”

 

“I was pretty excitable as a kid, but I didn’t fly off the handle or anything. Usually I’d just cry if something upset me.” Bo rambled nervously, watching Dean move in closer. “I-I…I don’t feel as much when I drink.” _Way to go, now you sound like an alcoholic!_ “I mean I…I don’t know. Everything hurts less.” Bo’s voice wavered uncertainly. “Everything hurts less and it helps me forget.”

 

“What do you need to forget?”

 

“Other than Seth? Embarrassing things that I do or say in the boardroom, mostly.” Bo busied himself readjusting the pull strings on his hoodie, dropping his eyes from Dean’s. “My dad has me sit in sometimes and I _always_ get too excited, say the wrong thing. Mix up my words.”

 

“He wouldn’t have you sit in if he didn’t want your input.” It sounded much more true when Ambrose said it, versus when Irwin said it with his usual deadpan expression and Bo couldn’t tell whether he was regretting his choice to involve him in the business. “You must say _somethin’_ good, otherwise he wouldn’t keep you around. I mean, that’s my take on it anyhow.” Dean shrugged, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. “But I imagine growin’ up with the Ice King probably wasn’t an easy time.”

 

“A lot of other kids had it worse.”

 

“I ain't in someone else's apartment. I’m in yours, right?” Ambrose asked pointedly.

 

“What does it feel like, when you hit someone?” Bo blurted out. Dean's posture straightened up, his shoulders a tense line. Bo instantly regretted letting his mouth run away from him, because Dean looked outright _uncomfortable_.

 

“Strange.” Ambrose replied slowly. “For me, anyhow. Grew up fightin' other kids, other people. If you're a decent person you don't ever wanna' be the one throwin' the first punch, y'know? Because if you're wrong, you're wrong with _force_. Which is the worst way to be wrong.” He heaved a sigh that rivaled Bo's. “But if you're right, if you're fightin' for someone who can't fight back it's...well, like I said, a strange sensation. You get the rush of it first, y'know, adrenaline blows you wide open. And that's when you have to be careful not to get carried away.” Dean tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling it down low enough to display an area of broken blood vessels and yellowed bruising beneath his collarbone. “One of the reasons I ain't throwing down much anymore, just take my licks an' get on with it. I know exactly what I can do.”

 

“What happened?” Bo didn't know why he even bothered asking; he knew the answer.

 

Dean ducked his head. “He mighta' come around once or twice. Damn near broke his hand trying to break my collarbone, the idiot.” He huffed. “He's just a fan of tossin' himself against any brick wall that'll take the punishment.”

 

“B-But he'll leave you alone now, right? I mean there was no reason for him to harass you in the first place, why would...” Bo trailed off, his eyes widening.

 

Dean grimaced, shoving his hands into his pockets and taking a large step back to lean against the counter. “I can take it.” Bo grabbed his arm and Ambrose flinched when Bo yanked the cuff of his jacket up. “Hey, it's not a big-”

 

“So that he would be exhausted when he got to me?” Bo interrupted, his fingers framing the bruises on Ambrose's arm. “So that I didn't have to learn?”

 

“You were fuckin' devastated when he broke up with you. More so when you found out that I was railin' him. I didn't want you to see the other shit.” Dean gently disentangled himself from Bo's hold. “It's alright.”

 

Bo sputtered incoherently before firmly announcing, “ _No_ , it's not!”

 

“Hey, it's the least I can do, y'know? After what I did to you, figured it was only fair.” Dean took Bo’s shoulders and fixed him with a serious look. “People like me exist as thirds an' outsiders, built for shit like this. I’m used to it.”

 

“That's _bullshit_.” Bo snapped, the curse making Dean’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “I mean excuse my language, but _bull_. _Shit_.”

 

“I didn’t think you actually knew how to swear.” Ambrose admitted.

 

“I am _twenty-se-”_

 

“No no, I get that you’re an adult. But you didn’t even drop so much as a ‘ _darn it_ ’ earlier when you were pissin’ fire. Excuse the hell outta’ me.” Dean raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’ve got variety.”

 

“Swearing is unprofessional and unnecessary in most situations.” Bo quoted the line his father had used on him _constantly_ in his youth. “But bad words are meant for bad things. _Nobody_ is built for abuse.”

 

“Christ, and we’re back to soundin’ like you’re in fuckin’ Catholic school.” Dean laughed ruefully. “Not doin’ a thing for my pain boner, Dallas.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bo said flatly, unable to resist a glance down all the same.

 

“Aha, you looked!”

 

“Sue me!” Bo shot back, thoroughly embarrassed.

 

Dean wrapped him in another hug, grinding their hips together and sliding his hands into the other man’s back pockets. “Not a big fan of red tape. Could we come to an agreement outside of court?” He murmured, his face suddenly inches away from Bo’s. Bo swallowed hard. “Somethin’ along the lines of our previous engagement, maybe?”

 

“Only if I get to touch you too.” Bo retorted before he lost his nerve, feeling his face go bright red.

 

Dean looked oddly hesitant for a moment. “Uh, I dunno’. I’m still a little sore. Don’t wanna’ startle you or anything.”

 

“I’ll be careful.” Bo promised, moving to rest his hands lightly on Dean’s shoulders. “Please?”

 

“Well…” Ambrose trailed off, giving Bo a lopsided little smirk when he tugged at the lapels of Dean’s jacket. “For you, I guess. Just go easy. And…” He paused, clearing his throat. “And if I say stop, hands off, okay?”

 

“Of course.” Bo was relieved; these were _easy_ rules to follow. “May I take your coat?” He asked, still tugging the leather intermittently.

 

“Oh, yeah.” Dean shrugged his way out of the article of clothing and Bo moved to drape it over the couch. Dean’s hand was on the back of his neck again and Bo couldn’t fight his shiver at the contact, the scotch buzzing just beneath his skin adding to the sensations. “Damn, you are a _responsive_ little thing ain’t you?”

 

“Mmhm.” Bo started unbuckling Dean’s belt, hearing the other man suck in a sharp breath. He pulled the belt free agonizingly slow, then rolled it up carefully and laid it on top of the coat. “May I take your pants?” He asked, the picture of innocence.

 

“ _Fuck_ yes, you absolutely may.” Dean cursed, all but pressing himself into Bo’s eager hands. “Can I take yours off?” He asked breathlessly, fingers already grazing the hem of Bo’s sweatshirt. “Didn’t hardly get to see you last time.”

 

“Seth never really…you’re the first person to do that to me.” Bo’s face felt like it was on fire. “W-With my chest, I mean.”

 

“Oh. I am gonna’ _enjoy_ you.” Dean rasped, quickly dragging Bo’s sweatshirt over his head and throwing it somewhere. Bo wasn’t overly concerned about where it landed, his attention thoroughly taken by the tongue and fingers coaxing his exposed nipples to hardened nubs. Without meaning to Bo grabbed a handful of Dean’s hair, whimpering embarrassingly loud. Dean, to his credit, immediately backed off and looked up worriedly. “That okay?”

 

“God, Jesus, _please_.” Bo begged, his body already humming from the lack of contact. “P-Please don’t stop.” Normally Bo would be taken by a fit of self-consciousness, if he stood in this state of undress anywhere near the beautifully crafted form of Rollins. He was painfully aware of how he looked, but for some reason right this second he couldn’t think of a single reason to shy away or cover himself back up. Oh he was embarrassed of course. Nervous. But that was normal for him.

 

“Yeah?” Dean’s large hands splayed over his pectorals, holding him steady so the taller man could study him silently.

 

Bo had never had anyone look at him _quite_ like that before. “Did…did I do something wrong?” He finally asked timidly.

 

“Nah.” Dean muttered. “Just tryin’ to figure out a good strategy.” He nuzzled his nose into the side of Bo’s neck beneath his ear, making the younger man gasp softly when Dean started teasing his ear with his breath. “You’re a raw fuckin’ nerve and I’m _not_ the most delicate guy in the world.” Ambrose continued. As if to drive his point home, he rubbed his thumb over Bo’s nipple hard enough to make Bo’s knees buckle. “Not gonna’ hurt you, obviously. But I need to be careful to keep that from happening.”

 

“Can I help?”

 

Dean swore under his breath, seeming to get himself back under control after a second. “Just…I guess be vocal with me. If you don’t like somethin’, tell me. Because if you pull on my hair I’m used to that meanin’ ‘harder’.” His smirk was lazy, building a heat in Bo’s stomach.

 

“I liked that, though.” Bo whispered, too embarrassed to meet Dean’s eyes. “What you were doing to me. I liked it.”

 

“Good. That’s what I was goin’ for. The way you lit up when I did it the other night, I figured it was a favorite spot of yours.” Dean shook his head. “Instead I get to find out that I’m the first asshole to _indulge_ you.”

 

“Seth didn’t like how long it could take to get me off.” Bo said hesitantly. Might as well warn him, he would hate to disappoint.

 

“What the _fuck_ did he expect, if he wasn’t willing to work over any of your fuckin’ hotspots?” Ambrose grumbled, his irritation helping to dispel Bo’s uncertainty. “You could be God’s fuckin’ gift and Rollins would _still_ want more.”

 

“He said it was because I would over-sensitize so quickly, it wasn’t really worth touching me.”

 

To Bo’s surprise, Dean groaned loudly. “Shoulda’ known you wouldn’t take it easy on me. Almost _want_ to get you overdone now.” He dragged a hand through his hair, eyes bright with interest. “I bet your ass that he just didn’t know how to get you off. Bet he was fuckin’ clueless.”

 

“You…you think so? Maybe I’m still normal?” Bo asked hopefully, startled when Dean kissed him fiercely.

 

“You _are_ normal. Sensitive in different spots like every other person out there.” Dean murmured against his lips. “Ain’t your fault that the first guy to snap you up saw you as a set of holes for top-tryin’.”

 

Bo whined as Dean mouthed his way back down over his pectoral, the younger man’s whole body trembling. Dean was suddenly sliding Bo’s basketball shorts down under the curve of his ass, leaving him almost completely exposed in his living room. Bo’s cock was trapped against his stomach by the elastic waistband of the shorts; he could feel himself twitch and strain every time Dean bit down or teased one of his nipples with his tongue. Ambrose kept switching back and forth until Bo was a red-faced mess, the taller man batting his hand away when Bo attempted to touch himself.

 

Bo gave a little sob and Dean finally looked up again, his lips liberally coated with spit from his enthusiastic ministrations. His hands kept groping and kneading Bo’s ass, greedily touching every inch of skin he could. Bo was open-mouthed panting at this point, and he was certain he must look _ridiculous_.

 

Dean’s pupils dilated rapidly. “ _God_ Dallas, you’ve got the best ‘ _Jesus Christ just fuck me_ ’ expression I’ve ever seen.” He laughed, sounding incredulous. “Holy shit, let’s move.” Ambrose half-carried him to his bedroom, as Bo’s arms were firmly locked around Dean’s neck so he could return Ambrose’s earlier favor of nipping at the shell of his ear. “On the bed, you.” Dean gasped, shuddering bodily before Bo pulled away. “You’re a little brat, gonna’ make me blow my load in my pants.” He huffed, not sounding upset in the slightest.

 

“Can I suck you?” Bo asked all in a rush, afraid yet again that he would lose his nerve. Dean paused midway through unbuttoning his jeans, looking torn. “I promise I won’t mess it up.”

 

“I’m supposed to be here for _you_.” Dean reminded him gently. “If you’re suckin’ me off, I’m suckin’ you off better, okay?”

 

Bo nodded eagerly, rolling onto his knees and watching unabashedly while Dean finished removing his pants and boxers. Dean’s cock was larger than Seth’s by a _noticeable_ margin and Bo wondered (with a traitorous little quiver in his belly) if he would have trouble with it. Dean patted his thigh after a minute and Bo shifted closer, his eyes going wide as Dean stroked himself slowly to full hardness.

 

“You're doin' that thing again, where you look at me funny.” Ambrose grunted, rubbing his thumb over the head of his dick. “Like what you see, Dallas?” He asked breathlessly. “Wanna' know what I taste like? Because I'm dyin' to know what _you_ taste like.” Dean's tone dropped into a gritty register that made Bo want to dissolve. “You came so hard for me the other night, but I never got the chance to taste you. You were asleep before you hit the mattress and I wasn't gonna' put my mouth on you if you were out.”

 

Ambrose laid back, beckoning for Bo to come even closer. “Um, h-how…?” Bo’s question died off as Dean showed him _exactly_ how, moving him into position over him after yanking his shorts down to his ankles. “Oh. _Oh_.” His knees shook slightly and he tried to widen his stance, tried to steady himself. Ambrose, of course, was making it _increasingly_ difficult to do so, the other man focused on enthusiastically teasing Bo’s balls with his tongue. Bo keened out, already overwhelmed because Seth had never put his mouth on him _there-!_

 

“ _Fuck_ , you--fuck.” Dean muttered into the skin of Bo’s thigh, pressing kisses there. “You okay? This okay?” Instead of replying, Bo took as much of Dean’s cock into his mouth as he could manage. Ambrose’s ragged exhale of “F-- _uck_ ” spurred him on to try harder, the younger man focused on making that cock as slick as he could to get it further into his mouth, into his throat. Bo may have been inexperienced in other areas, but this was something he knew well and he was outright _determined_ to make this blowjob the best one he’d ever given. Judging from the way Dean’s hand had clenched into the blankets beneath him, he figured he probably wasn’t doing too poorly.

 

“This alright?” Bo gasped, his back arching when Dean wordlessly licked his palm and gave Bo’s dick a lazy stroke. Dean’s thumb teased the area just beneath the crown of his cock and Bo’s thighs went tight, the younger man taking Dean’s cock as far down as he could in a display of appreciation. He didn’t even care that he was already sloppy and Dean hadn’t so much as moved his hips up, the light-haired man instead dragging his free hand greedily down Bo’s back to coax him into fucking his fist.

 

“You _like_ that don’t you? Yeah you do, _yeah_ you fuckin’ do.” Dean murmured, the feeling of his mouth on Bo’s cock making the younger man freeze. Lightning tripped down the length of his spine and Bo made a noise so obscene it had him blushing bright red. Ambrose groaned in response to his sound and his cock twitched in Bo’s hand.

 

“Is that good for you?” Bo gasped when he came up for air again. “Am I doing good?”

 

“Best I’ve ever fuckin’ had.” Dean gritted out, his free hand back to playing with Bo’s hair. “Fuckin’ working so hard to get me to come, Jesus _Christ_ Dallas, you’re makin’ me look like a slouch.” His hand trailed lower to tweak Bo’s nipples and Bo could _feel_ Dean’s smirk against the skin of his thigh when he cried out. “ _’Hard to get off_ ’, my fuckin’ ass.” Ambrose growled, “Come for me, prove that asshole wrong and come for me.” He took Bo’s cock into his mouth again, talented tongue assaulting his sensitive head and underside with a feverish variety of patterns while his hands worked over Bo’s chest.

 

Bo couldn’t even believe that this was happening, every muscle in his body straining as he blindly sought his orgasm. And Dean just… _accepted_ it. Didn’t tell him to wait, didn’t force him back down to swallow his cock again. _I’m here for you. Take what you need._

 

Bo suddenly felt Dean gag around his cock and that did it, the younger man crying out as he came hard. His legs locked and his arms gave out, dumping him gracelessly to slump his forehead against Dean’s hip while Ambrose milked him dry. Bo was light-headed by the time he had stopped coming, his body shivering violently when he tried to move. “Dean-“ He moaned, shaking his head to try and get his long hair out of his face. “M’ stuck.”

 

“I know. Totally at my mercy.” Dean chuckled, cupping Bo’s balls and teasing them through the skin with his thumbs. “It’s great.”

 

“ _Oh--_ ” Bo whimpered, rocking down into Ambrose's grasp as best as he could. “God yes, _yes_. M' sorry I stopped sucking you off.” He apologized pitifully, trying to move and take Dean's cock into his mouth again.

 

Dean carefully rolled the two of them over, letting Bo rest on his back. “ _Relax_. Gettin' off ain't a dealbreaker for me.” Ambrose said kindly, “You're obviously wiped out.” He inhaled hard when Bo mouthed at the side of his cock, dropping his hips a little to bring it closer even while he protested, “I don't need it like you do, Dallas.”

 

“But I want _you_ to feel good too.” Bo insisted, whining unhappily when Dean moved back out of reach. “ _Dean-_ ”

 

“Ah ah, no complaining. You're a _distraction_ , Dallas.” Ambrose ducked his head to stick his tongue out at Bo, grinning after a second. “I've got a very important mission to fulfill here. I can't be distracted.”

 

“ _Fine_ , but after you're done with your mi-- _ah_ , Dean!”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Not _fair-!_ ”

 

“Mm, I'm pretty sure this is the fairest thing I've ever done. Hey, you can have your turn once I get like...two more out of you, alright? I'm _plenty_ fair.”

 


End file.
